


The Realization of Doom

by Pagon_God_of_Writing_Ghoster



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: DiTab (Dib/Tak), Don't like it, Don't read, Explict?, F/M, Grown Up, Had to download Font, Hard to get, I don't like Yaoi, Intelligent Zim?, Irken, Irken language (if only...), Multi, Not Cartoon Versions, OOC? Possibly, Older, Post Series, Too few ZaGr, ZAGR - Freeform, enjoy, maybe? - Freeform, or manga versions, think of anime versions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-02-26 08:01:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2644259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pagon_God_of_Writing_Ghoster/pseuds/Pagon_God_of_Writing_Ghoster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Go to Notes for Summary, stupid summary box kept saying I was over the character limit, even thought I still had four left D:</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Death of a Nuisance

**Author's Note:**

> Many years have passed, Zim has grown into something that the "Almighty Tallest" never thought would happen. His personality has grown to a lesser version as it once had been. His intellect and wisdom have improved in addition to the increase of height and other physical attributes. They thought him defective, when in reality it was a simple malfunction in the activation of the "Tallest" gene. For long years this gene had been dormant, but when Zim; in a flash of awareness, realized that the Tallest had been stringing him along this entire time, his anger and outrage agitated the gene into an awoken state. Now he has become an "adolescent" tallest and is in his fourth year at a human high skool. It was there that this gene activated; just coming out of elementary skool, and helped him achieve a higher and higher grade until he was considered a genius in every sense of the word.
> 
> However, he is not happy with his current living arrangements, not at all. It is here that Zim waits, waits on the accursed planet Earth till he can spring his new plan of escape; not conquest. So he can go to the Tallest and reap his revenge. Except... no one but a suspicious adolescent man with an over sized head thinks he is Zim.
> 
> The fools...
> 
> Okay, I wanted to put the actual Irken language; which I got an actual font for it, but found that no site actually takes the symbols that are the language. Soo.... maybe I'll post a link to a sheet or download or something that has the dialogue or stuff that is the Irken language. Maybe? Naaaah...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Go to the notes for a summary, this thing was a big meanie and said I had no characters left even though I still had four to use.]

The mechanical churning and whirring echoed loud and clear through the red and purple machinery and guts of the vast, underground laboratory. Various parts rotated and swirled around metallic shafts, some were pounded down or rotated around a gear, etc. Despite this, the actual halls and rooms of the laboratory were soundless, only the droning of computer monitors, buzzing of electrical devices, and the occasional shifting of tubes and wires strewn about the ceiling with no rhyme or reason. It was in a chamber with a screen half the size of a billboard did an exasperated Irken invader; antenna dropping sadly and ruby eyes scrunched down near the top. He was rather short; five feet and growing, and had a rather skinny frame. He wore a form-fitting purplish red striped shirt, black pants and black boots, and a pair of black gloves.

There the invader sat, curled up with the small-of-his-back and his PAK pressing against the cold metal ball that acted as a seat. He had gotten rather depressed after having such a cataclysmic realization. A realization that destroyed his entire belief in his leaders and species, that he was a defective unit and had been tossed aside to this backwater planet as a punishment; out of sight out of mind was the term human's used. It had taken the entirety of elementary school to finally realize it, but now that he did he wished he could have stayed blissfully ignorant. For the longest of times he thought they enjoyed his contributions; which he secretly knew always turned out bad, but when they brought him to the Existence trial, a trial to determine if a criminal Irken was worthy of living, the cold, hard, steely reality hit him like a ton of bricks. They weren't ever happy, they weren't ever giving him extra chances to prove he wasn't incompetent, he was the cause of so many Irken deaths, he was the death of two Almighty Tallest, he was _defective._  The word stung his heart--what the humans would've called the organ--like a hand roughly grabbing and jerking around his antenna. All he ever did was try to help, nothing more, didn't they see that?

_No, I suppose not... I practically killed my own race._

Even now, he still clung to the language of his own people. It was eloquent and peaceful sounding in his mind, bringing back fond memories. However, these memories seemed much less enjoyable now that he had partially corrected a few of the defective glitches in his PAK. They brought him to tears on bad days, seeing the clear pinkish blood of his comrades being shed by his own hands, by his own actions. So many deaths, in just twenty years of his life, only now did the guilt weigh down his consciousness; what little his species could call such a thing. Hesitantly he reached forward, touching an inactive pink panel; bringing it to life silently. Once online, the panel produced a holographic projection of the Irken empire's insignia that oscillated in a listless manner. Following his prior movements, Zim swiped his opposite hand across the insignia; bringing up a multitude of icons floating in front of the insignia background. With a tap of his right finger's middle finger; thin and frail looking, he clicked the communications icon. He then pressed four of his six fingers against one of the transmission links and stretched it out, expanding it until it began trembling and, finally, popped. An image of the two Almighty Tallest appeared, floating and swirling about the middle of the large center screen.

While he waited, he contemplated his "Defectiveness" and "Faulty PAK" personality traits. When he had "fixed" his PAK; after an incident with a lightning bolt, he simply needed to reconnect and rearrange some wires that had been popped loose. (3) It was then that he learned of his true purpose being here, when he stopped thinking and worrying over little things, and when he realized that someone had to of messed with his PAK for it to of malfunctioned like so. Upon realizing this, he once thought to himself, wouldn't the control brains have realized that the PAK was faulty? Couldn't they have given him a new one or fix this one? At the same time, couldn't the Tallest of simply given him a new PAK, or, better yet, fixed his PAK in someway if the brains could not? Couldn't they have simply engineered those bad traits out of him? Upon thinking these thoughts, letting them set into his brain and fester, he found himself loathing the current and past Tallest leaders. He found them even more incompetent than before, growing to hate them in the short seconds it took to establish a communication link with them.

_They'd dare to not give me, the mighty Zim whom has been doing things out of loyal and noble intentions, another chance?!_

  
As he continued to mull over these enraging thoughts, he unconsciously began clenching and dragging his razor sharp, bony fingers against the metal shoulder rest-like sections of his seat. This produced an ear piercing sound, only able to be compared to that of claws against a blackboard. This, in turn, caused the Almighty Tallest to flatten their antenna against their head and cover two empty spots below their temples. They visibly gritted their teeth, squirming and wriggling under such a horrid noise.

"ZIM!" hollered Almighty Tallest Red.

"STOP!" added Almighty Tallest Purple.

His mind reeled back, turning its gaze back to reality to find his clawed fingers practically digging into the metal of his chair. Quickly he stopped, pulling his hands from the armrests and shaking his head; jarring free his thoughts from the growing web of rage.

"M...my Tallest! I gravely apologize, I did not notice the link had been established." he said apologetically; his voice noticeably less squeak toy-like.

The two leaders exchanged irritable glances to the other; something the old Zim would not have picked up on, then they looked back to the exiled Irken. Their looks now were more contempt filled, possibly even humored by the still believed fact that Zim was as stupid and oblivious as ever. The invader found this mien rather irking (huehuehue...), but kept it hidden with a painful expression of unsuspecting.

"What do you want now Zim?" Almighty Tallest Red queried with a sort of exasperation in his voice that only could be acquired from dealing with this specific Irken for long periods of time.

"Yes, what is it that you could possibly want?" chimed in Almighty Tallest Purple.

"Well, as you undoubtedly know, today is the annual report day!" he began with feigned joy. "So, I figured I'd report my progress on conquering the humans!"

 In a rather humiliating attempt to keep the vial of stupidity they thought he couldn't live without, he jumped out of his seat and slammed both boot covered feet into the purplish-pink metal floor, while he threw his hands above his head in a "Ta-Da!" pose. Irritatingly, it worked, getting a faint chortle out of both leaders; more mockingly than anything else. He had to bite his worm-like, segmented tongue to keep himself from blowing the clever guise.

 An hour or so passed, the report was given in both vocal and written format. When he sent a copy of the report to each of the Tallest, he saw them reach over and click a button out of view. While he couldn't confirm it visually, he could tell; from the memorization of icon locations, that they pressed the discard button. This stung his "heart" even further, while fueling the fire of his rage. Afterwards, he said his goodbyes to his leaders and, once the link was cut and screen faded to an inactive purple, slumped in his chair sadly.

_Despite all I've tried to do... this is how I'm treated? Even when I am no longer there to mess anything up?!_

Instinctively he curled his three green-skin, bare fingers; something rare for him to do, into a trembling fist; the Irken version of one. He sat there, wallowing in his self-pity and rage, until he came up with an idea. One that might "fix" the true problem with his PAK; and his personality, and reap vengeance upon the "Almighty Tallest". Soon they'd see, they'd all see how deadly Zim could be. Soon, very soon, they'd see.

* * *

_Years passed, life went on, uncaring of the Irken invader's feelings. But, unbeknownst to life, this Irken invader had realized his full potential; engineering his negligence out of his PAK, inventing muscular enhancement cyber-implants, and awakening the inner "Tallest" gene that had been stored deep within his PAK. Now, he would simply wait, wait for the right time to come. Upon reaching this time, he'd vanish--he already thought of a clever way to go about it--and he'd secretly plot his revenge unhindered. The Irken boy grew to that of half a Tallest physically and twice as intelligent as one. His strength; which had already been "superhuman", was that of five fully grown human bodybuilders. There was nothing he couldn't fight, but he still played the part of the nitwit. He kept thinking of plans that would purposefully fail; as to not draw suspicion from the annoying Dib worm, until the time would come. Four more years of school passed, and upon the graduation from Junior High, he set his plan into motion._

* * *

The day was dreary, a gray colored sky with equally gloomy gray, cloud overcast blocking the vast blue sky. It was likely to storm, and that was bad for Zim. This thought brought a smile to Dib's face. His eyes closed and raised up near the corners just partially; showing that he was smiling quite largely. The five foot nine, fair-skinned boy with black, wildly spiky hair; one large lightning bolt shaped strand near the middle, found himself wiggling about his seat. The silver chains attached to the sides of his black, form-fitting jeans clinked and rattled in delight at the sudden movement. His feet swayed back and forth ever so slightly; poking the partially covered black sneakers in and out from underneath the metal folding chair. His overly large, inky, angular coat rustled against such movement--the creases and folds furling and unfurling. This coat had a few arrow shaped metal overlays going down his shoulders and around the wrist sections. Underneath this was a black T-shirt with a large, yellow face with a blank expression. Even his glasses fidgeted in protest of the movement, making him use his glove--finger less--covered hands have to hold them on his face. (1)

His fellow graduates glanced at him; some openly some discreetly, like he was a lunatic. The look in each pair of eyes was one the social outcast had grown accustom to, the kind that makes people cringe in embarrassment, make them regret being born, cause them to become depressed and self-conscious. But, after so long one became use to it, almost immune. Dib was one such individual, he had simply become numb to such social ostracizing. He stopped moving and shrugged softly; glancing out to the other seats of the auditorium. What he saw was what he expected, his fourteen year old sister and the floating screen with a live video feed of his father; at work in the labs.

His younger sister was fair-skinned; like him, with a skinny, almost anorexic body that stood around five feet and five inches tall. Her clothing had changed very little; if at all. It was basically the same clothing from four years ago, only bigger. A black and purple striped, long sleeve shirt with a white skull necklace around her neck with a pair of jet black jeans; also form-fitting, and indigo converse with black laces.

The same could be said about his father, he looked no different in the terms of clothing, he simply looked older.

Dib mentally sighed when he saw his sister obsessively playing her Game-Slave and his father turned around, focusing on his work. It was no different from the last graduation and it would be no different the next graduation, not even for any of Gaz's graduations. It was an odd and distant family, but it worked, right? After all they were here, attending their kin's progression. So, hey, a happy family right?

After a while the ceremony began, the principle came up and began reading off a speech he had spent a relatively long  time writing. It was rather boring, like watching a nature documentary about a Tree's life. This speech held various degrees of faked pride and joy throughout the entirety of its length, even spreading into the calling of the graduate's names. One after another the students got up from their seats, approached the podium, shook hands and took their junior-high certificate, and returned to their seats. At one point, Zim's name was called; for the certificate and a piece of paper from the president congratulating him on his academic and physical prowess, and nothing happened. The alien menace hadn't shown up to the auditorium and his seat--coincidentally next to Dib's, was empty.

_Alien coward, couldn't handle the chance of water, could you? Who's the superior species now?_

His thoughts were triumphant to his ears, relishing the so-called victory he felt at his alien nemesis's absence. Soon his name was called and he popped up from his chair and strode over to the podium happily. Enthusiastically he took the principle's hand into the grasp of both his hands combined; shaking his entire body softly before taking the rolled up certificate. But, when he moved to take a seat in the folding chair, it happened.

A feeling, compared only to the suction of Tak's giant machine, surged into the school; from a specific point Dib could not see. Then, there came an ear-ringing screech followed by the thunderous bellowing of an explosion, and then after that came the resulting pulse of singing heat and overwhelming force. Chairs and people alike were tossed forward like rag dolls, slamming into the floor or the ceiling; even each other. One empty chair had been flung forward and made a collision course with his overly large head. Then, before the collision, before the world went black, before he could even hear the symphony of panicked screams, he could have sworn he heard Zim's maniacal laughter ringing in his ears.

* * *

Gaz sat on the edge of an ambulance backdoor frame, observing an almost never ending string of firefighters standing outside the school. Her skin and clothing had a few burn marks and scratches here and there; most bandaged up. Around her chest was a snug blanket of white gauze, squeezing her insides like it were girdle and limply held in her left hand was her destroyed Game Slave. Her eyes watched the firefighters with bored interest; occasionally glancing back to the inside of the ambulance where he unconscious brother laid. The building had quickly caught fire after the explosion, but by that time most of the occupants had gotten out. All except for Zim, the stupid alien. Supposedly he had been in the bathroom, ditching the graduation before and during the detonation. However, he had yet to be found. Her thoughts turned to Zim for a moment, wondering of his well-being; quickly she jarred her mind of such thoughts.

What did she care? Why did she, why would she? It wasn't like she had any attachment to the thing, to her it was just another box of annoyance--like her brother. Yet, her heart tightened at the thoughts of his death or injuring. Such thoughts made her weak, showed weakness, so why did she think of them? Quite quickly she found herself grinding her teeth together in anger of her own thoughts that confused her. Gaz leaned forward and placed her feet on the ground, then turned and clambered up to the cabin of the ambulance; approaching the side of her stupid brother. There was a moment between the two where Gaz simply stared, glared at her unconscious brother with a squinting look.

She took a breath, then spoke to her brother in a venomous voice. "Dib, you will get up or I will come down to whatever realm you find yourself in and show you suffering like you've never imagined."

As if upon hearing his sister's voice and threat, Dib's eyes creaked open and sluggishly looked at her. His chest rose and fell lethargically, like a sloth, as he surveyed where he was.

"Gaz..." he called with a rugged voice. "What... happened...?"

"A bomb went off." she stated with little sympathy.

"Are... you o... okay? Is... is everyone e-else okay...?"

"Were not dead... though, they haven't found Zim."

"Well... that's good news..."

Gaz's hand clenched into a balled fist, raise this hand she did and bring it down hard onto her brother's right leg she did. Dib cried out in pain, recoiling his leg; hugging it to his chest. He turned back and forth in the gurney he laid in, until Gaz got bored and turned her attention back to the firefighters once more. It was then that she noticed one was carrying a six foot six body; limp for the most part, out of the flaming debris that was the bathroom. Inside she felt the black coal that was here heart clench, tighten, and she felt her breathing stop; as if waiting for something. They were shouting something, something about immediate medical attention, but was drowned out by a second explosion. This time it erupted from a section near the boy's bathroom, and when it did a lot more debris came from it. More shrapnel than the last one, and this time, a piece of shrapnel; a broken spear-like thing of tubing, hit someone. It plunged into Zim. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn her heart stopped beating for a moment.

The tube section speared through the abdomen of the alien, flaying him without mercy. Red blood (2) spewed out from both ends; painting the grassy ground and fireman's face a shining crimson. His eyes opened instantly and lulled back in agony before focusing on one spot in the distant sky of blue. The blast tossed the now limp corpse from the fireman's grasp; whom was tossed forward herself, and into the path of a falling section of wall. Before her very eyes, Zim's limp body was buried under a pile of rubble.

* * *

A month passed, a slow and boring month passed. There had been few deaths in the two bomb detonations at the Junior-high, just a handful of students, faculty, and parents. Among the casualties was Zim, except unlike all the rest, he really didn't have any thing or anyone to start a funeral. His house had mysteriously disappeared upon his death and so too did Gir, everyone simply assumed he had been a kid that lived on the streets, whom merely weaseled his way through elementary school to junior-high. So the list of funeral host candidates were next to none. But, he did have a funeral; albeit small, and it was Gaz who convinced her father into doing it for her. While Dib didn't want to, his father forced him to join his sister and he; for it was ten minutes of his time he could spend with his family.

These ten minutes felt awkward and tense filled, more so than ever before. Gaz showed no emotion as the ceremony played out, Dib did his best to not laugh victoriously, and their father kept his arms around both of them; like the "How to be a Parent" manual said to. After the ten minutes were up, their father told them to return home by six, saying that the lab needed him on an urgent project, then he was off in a flash of lightning. For a few moments, Gaz simply stood in front of the grave that the alien's remains had been buried in; the image of his brutal death fresh in her mind. She heaved a heavy sigh before sauntering out of the cemetery with a gloomier visage than normal. The glasses wearing one, however, stayed behind at his enemy's grave.

The boy stared down, triumphantly, at the grave. He had a large, toothy grin plastered to his face and in his head he chanted a mantra that went like so: I win, I win! Yet, he had this hollow feeling inside his chest. He felt empty, almost a bitter-sweet sensation in his stomach. He found himself, almost, regretting his death; making him rather angry.

"Why..." he angrily asked the grave. "Why is it that now that I've won, I feel so bitter-sweet? Why do I feel so hollow and empty inside?"

His fingers curled and his knuckles turned white from how hard he clenched his hands.

"I am finally rid of you, and yet I feel sad. It's not like we were friends, we were enemies! Always have been! So don't you go thinking that I miss you!" he shouted at the dirt; falling to his knees and bending over it, pounding his fist into said dirt with pent up rage. "YOU HEAR ME?! I DON'T MISS YOU, I AM HAPPY YOUR DEAD! SO GO ROT IN WHATEVER PLACE THEY SAVE DOWN THERE FOR PEOPLE LIKE YOURSELF!"

He said nothing more after that, feeling to hollow to go on. Dib simply stood up, dusted himself off, and trudged home in utter silence.

* * *

Upon entering her home, upon slamming her door, upon sauntering into her room, she found a brand new Game Slave on her bed; waiting. Gaz looked at it with bored eyes, lethargically meandering over, grabbing it, turning it on, and plopped herself onto her bed. She kept her eyes locked onto the game screen, feeling a strange liquid prick the corners of her eyes. This once she'd let emotion, weakness to show; as long as no one saw it. A soft whimpering came from the teenager as tears runnel down her cheeks and her hands tightened around the game player. Two Levels, one, none.  **YOU WIN!**

_No... I don't... I lose..._

For once in her life, she willingly turned the Game-Slave off; before saving her progress. She sat it on her nightstand and curled up at the head of her bed, burying the side of her head as far into the pillow as she could. This once, she told herself, this one time she'd let her near nonexistent emotions show in the form of liquid runnels from her eyes. As long as no one saw her weakness, she'd allow herself to expose it.

* * *

It was well in the twilight hours, the sky was clear and the stars; not obscured by the city's lights, twinkled like smoldering embers in a snuffed out fire. The cemetery was as eerie as it ever would or could be, but this particular night felt creepier than the others. It was deserted, ironically like a ghost town, as far as the eye could see; not even the gravedigger was stalking about the graves. It was the perfect opportunity for the shadowy figure to slither in and approach the recently buried grave of Zim. He looked down at it with calculating ocean blue eyes, unfeeling and uncaring of the late student. He did, however, put two fingers to his mouth and produce a sharp whistle.

The upturned dirt at his feet shook and rustled around as the occupant buried beneath it began to stir and move out of its coffin. A few seconds passed before the fresh dirt parted near the center of the alien's grave and revealed the top of black hair; done up in a ninety's style. The head slid out just enough for the eyes to peer around the topside to confirm the signal. When it saw the feet of its master, the corpse of Zim popped completely out of its rabbit hole and stood in front of him with its tongue hanging out like a dog.

"Did everything go according to plan Gir?" queried the figure.

"Yes masta! Though... I forgat the plan!" Gir replied naively.

The figure chuckled at his companion's stupidity, he'd fix him too soon enough. He raised his hand and placed it on top of the corpse's head, ripping off a device that kept the hologram of Zim's body there. A buzzing noise resonated through the cemetery and revealed the short robot; eyes and shoulder pads piercing through the darkness with a neon blue. A metallic tongue remained sticking out, mimicking that of a canine.

"Dids I do goodz masta?" Gir inquired ignorantly.

"Yes Gir, you did very well. Now... come, our new base awaits." answered the figure.

Soon, a ship; quite bulbous in design, called the "Votz Cruiser" (4), hovered closer to the ground and opened up for the two. In they jumped and down the lid closed, then off it sped away to their new base location. They were like a firework, spiraling into the night sky as silent as an angel, then exploding with fiery beauty; then fading away like the last light of day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1). I suppose he'd kind of look like the link's picture... with the few adjustments and editing I've done to make it a bit more realistic. http://www.deviantart.com/art/invader-zim-older-version-312838952 just if I have done a horrid job at trying to describe it.
> 
> 2). I am aware of the clear pinkish blood they have.
> 
> 3). This idea is completely credited to the Fanfiction.net user Dooragon, a complete genius on explaining things! I hope to mold it into something of my own, but for now the base is molded to mirror his, for now.
> 
> 4). Is that how you spell his ship? Correct me if I'm wrong please and thank you.


	2. The Rich Kid of Doom

_Years have passed, time has moved on, no one looked back to mull over a what if or a should I have. No one truly knew nor really cared about the kid whom died on that day, but who could really blame them? To most, if not all, of the kids Zim was just "that green-skinned kid". Not a single soul other than Dib, Tak--that transfer student that left but came back--or Gaz, on occasion, associated themselves with the kid. Who would care if he died? Even his family seemed to disappear when he died, like he was a cruel tyrant that controlled his family with an iron fist. No one would miss him, no one. In all honesty, the kid was as weird and insane as Dib. People just didn't mention it because he was a brand of insanity that always seemed to titter on the edge of turning homicidal maniac._

* * *

 Inside a room painted purple and black, adorned with Gothic posters and disturbed dolls meticulously stacked on the tops of furniture slept a woman most beautiful. Her hair that stretched down to the first bump of her spine, colored a light indigo pinkish color, was messy and sprawled out haphazardly on the purple nest of pillows. The fair-skinned face of the adolescent woman was cloaked in a vale of shadows by the less than average lighting of the room. Not to mention that purple and black colored sheets clung to her well-developed body like clothes soaked by rain. This was one of the few and far between moment of tranquility that gripped the woman's presence. However, it was destined to abruptly end. For the sun that lazily lifted itself from the horizon nonchalantly shone yawn inducing rays of heat and light through the atmosphere, to the ground, and through the curtain covered window of the little vixen's room. To the sun, the goth's rage was nothing. Not a single entity in all of space could dare oppose its rays, for its metaphorical word was law.

 The streams of sunshine, dyed a blackish purple hue, sashayed through the thin fabric and gleefully danced on top of the purple carpeted floor like nimble ballerinas. Said rays meandered their way onto the bed of the slumbering goth without fear of angering or the wraith of the woman. These dancing lights that stepped over the lids of her eyes so rudely caused the goth to steer out of the land that resided between the worlds of awake and asleep. With a groan escaping her lips, Gaz's eyelids gradually opened parted just enough to let her vision come back. At first, everything was blurred by the grogginess of lingering sleep, but clarity soon returned to her sight and permitted her to see what stirred her from the blissful land she had resided in prior. On more than one occasion, Gaz had thought about putting up an awning of sorts to keep the light from disturbing her peaceful slumber. But, she'd then reason with herself that when her father saw it he'd immediately order her to take it down; if he even decided to acknowledge it that is. Professor Membrane rarely even recognized his own children, so what was the chance of him seeing an awning? The goth never managed to convince herself to actually go through with the plan, however.

 In the end it was her obnoxious sibling who pulled her from the alluring middle world of dreams with his aggravatingly nasally, confident (1) voice and knocking.

 "Hey Gaz," he began. "Are you awake! Come on, get up! Today's Tuesday, we have school!"

 "Go away..." she croaked in a drawl, voice quite monotone.

 "Come on Gaz, get up get up! How's dad gunna react if you miss a day of school?"

 With her brother's comment, Gaz's eyes begrudgingly opened up just enough for her to see with clarity and kept a stare that could turn men to stone locked onto her closed door. The mien she held for the one behind the door was unadulterated animosity, but it quickly subsided as she sighed in submission. Despite how much the goth disliked her brother and the education system, she still had to attend it or else dad would suffer a few reprimanding consequences. The Gothic adolescence threw her sheets aside and sat up, then she slid both mile long legs down the edge of her bed and placed her bare feet onto the cool carpet, gingerly heated by the sun's rays. With a firm support the goth rose from the bed that cried to be laid upon and despite the pleading cries of said bed Gaz kept going. She didn't like it, but her annoying brother was right. Missing school was something she could not allow herself to do.

 The adolescent woman began with the first part of her morning routine. This first part consisted of brushing and fixing the purple hair that reaches down past her shoulder blades. With a comb and brush to do so, Gaz straightens out the tangled and protruding locks of her hair and quickly fixes her bangs. When all was said and done the waterfall of purple that was her hair returned to its normal style. This style consisted of a noticeable split down the middle, dictating that the locks on the left would be pointing in a leftwards direction while the right did the exact opposite; the way in which each lock is parted allows for her ears and some of her head's sides to be seen. The bangs also followed this rule, all except for the two fang-like bangs--of which rested at the very edges of her face--that partially stretched past her chin by a few centimeters. Then a waterfall of purple locks going past her shoulder blades connects with the rest of her hair via the back of her head.

 The next step in her morning routine consisted of brushing and flossing her teeth and, not in that exact order, getting dressed. The goth flung the oak wardrobe's, brazen handled, doors open and began perusing its contents. Over the years her taste for fashion grew tangent with the number of clothes at her disposal and irked her to no end. With no real desire for careful selection Gaz merely plucked out a pair of pants and a shirt from the clothing rack, at random. Then in one quick motion the articles of cloth were stripped from their coat hanger and discarded to the messy sheets of her bed, the turned and crouched down before sliding one of the lower drawers out of place. Inside were an assortment of short, normal, and knee high socks of either black, purple, or indigo coloration. With another wild guess she pulled out a pair and tossed it onto the other articles as well. Then she went over to where her shoes were kept and flung them onto her bed as well.

 Gaz sauntered to the bed, once again, and plopped herself onto the inviting mattress with a squeaky thud. She got to dressing right away. The first thing to come on was the pair of indigo socks that came up to the knees of her slender legs. These socks were form-fitting and did, odd, wonders on complementing her Gothic exterior.  Down the entire thing was a light shade of gray spiraling down until the ankle, that's where the stripe rounded off. Then she grabbed the jeans she had picked at random and gave them a good once over. They were made of a decent fabric, one that wouldn't get wet at the very least. It was colored a bluish indigo with black stripes going down the outer leg sections before rounding off at the waist and ankle areas. There was the occasional drooping chain that connected one side of the fabric to the other; a common thing for the pockets of the trousers. Lining the pockets were fake black and purple buttons that were more for display than use. On the pants went and then came the shirt.

 The shirt was a hybrid between a long sleeved and short sleeved shirt. Up from the shoulder to the middle of the bicep was the short sleeve, but after that a long sleeve would protrude out from underneath the short sleeve. The entirety of one short sleeve was called a dark purple whilst the other was colored an indigo, but each seamlessly merged with the black long sleeves as a spiraling pole of black and purple or black and indigo that rounded off at a black, indigo, and dark purple striped wrist section. The sleeves were connected to a blackish purple base that resembled the old attire she wore almost every day as a kid. However, the proportions are scaled up accordingly in the corresponding areas. On it went and then came the shoes.

 The shoes matched the other articles' color palette with a dark purple fabric and black laces. Said pair of shoes went up to to the middle of her calf with iron stud trimmings and small metal spikes going up both sides of the shoes. The laces had a good few inches left--even after being tied up--and hung limply at the sides as a result. The treads of the combat boots were especially deep; the designer made them specially for hiking in rugged environment. Along the sole of each shoe was a vertical thing of text that read, "Head Goes Here". Suffice to say, people were afraid of the Gothic woman.

 Another persistent knock, "You coming Gaz?" Dib hollered.

 With a huff Gaz flung the door open; consequently, smashing Dib in his face.

 "Your voice is annoying." she hissed venomously.

* * *

 

 The high-school building was slightly better than the grade and junior high school facilities. The entire building was larger than the prior facilities of education. And not to mention the surplus of staff. They managed to spell it right, that was a plus. Their teachers also were more fixated on trying to teach the students something, unlike the grade school teacher Ms. Bitters and the middle school teacher Ms. Crabapple[2]. However, nothing else really changed. The students were still as judgmental and cruel as they were in grade school. They never removed the supernatural-obsessed, insane label from the genius Dib and still feared the goth, whom cherished her games over human life, known as Gaz.

 The high school halls were bustling with students either milling about or idly chatting with friends. All throughout the locker-lined halls was the merging chorus of shuffling footsteps, snapping lips, meaningless prater, and various other extremities emitted from the students. Generally there was no division between the student body, but if scrutinized long enough the dividing lines could be seen. While there weren't many, the borders dividing cliches such as the "popular kids" from the rest of the student body were evident. There were two people that appeared to have their own, separate cliche. Whenever the one they feared made her appearance they'd move aside to give her a clear path to wherever she was heading to. They'd do as she commanded or, more generally, would act in such a way as to keep her rage from being evoked. However, the exact opposite occurred when the one they considered an insane outcast made his appearance. They'd cease their conversations if he got to close and send, some discrete some not, judging stares his way. Sometimes they'd even purposefully obstruct his path or make his daily life much more difficult.

 Gaz let a heavy sigh of annoyance waft past her lips. Nothing was different and nothing was interesting. The woman tiredly turned her head from the parting crowd of students to the Game Slave V in her hands. Currently it was off and until she got to a place where she could concentrate it'd stay like that. Eventually her wandering brought her to her home room. The room was designed like a high school homeroom seen in old high school movies. Just like such movies the people occupying it mimicked those seen in the movies. The "geeks" and "nerds" were in their seats early, a few popular kids were huddled in a far off corner prating on about the day's gossip, etc. With a listless motion Gaz saunters to her desk and takes a seat with a huff; the game slave came up to eye level and the game was resumed.

 Several heavenly minutes of uninterrupted gaming passed before the ear-piercing bell cried throughout the school. When the ringing subsided the sound of hundreds of students all moving in unison was left in its wake. An unsettling sound to experience was the united stamping of countless human feet. To a lesser human being it would've been maddening. But, Gaz's psyche had been hardened like a street paved with cement. A few moments passed, the teacher strolled in a few seconds after the last teen filed into the room. Upon entering the room a metal bulkhead slid out of the wooden frame, followed by a threatening male's voice confirming the door's lock status, and slammed into the bland linoleum floor.

 "Alright! Alright! Good to see you class. How's it goin'? how's it goin'?" the teacher asked in his usual cheery voice.

 His joyous greeting was met with silence.

 "That's good, that's real good. Silence is what I like to hear, music to my ears it is. Now--" he took out a pencil, licked the tip, and a clipboard attached piece of paper. "when I call your name, say here! Okay! I wouldn't want the disciplinary bots to hurt, er,  _discipline_ you. No, no, no. That would hurt very much. Very much."

 "Ted Bundy(3)?" he called.

 "Here."

 "Alright, alright, alright. Ted Bundy is here. Real cool. Real cool."

 "Gracie Hared?"

 "Here..."

 "Alright, alright, alright..."

 The teacher's irksome voice, as eloquent as a cheese-grater, slowly melded into a sort of  _mwa-mwa-mwmwamwa_  noise. Gaz's eyes could only find the activity of her Game Slave V, held in her lap, entertaining. Nothing could tare her from her precious handheld, nothing  _alive_ anyway. That's when her mind wandered to the day she thought to of gotten over. A day she never thought possible. The look on the moronic alien's face before getting impaled by a stray chunk of debris; promptly after, getting crushed under a gratuitous number of bricks. It was like his real eyes had been calling, crying past the fake plastic ones for her help.  _Gaz..._  he called.  _Gas...!_ It was like his voice was ringing inside her head. _  
_

"Ms. Gaz Membrane!" shouted the teacher.

 Evidently the voice she heard was the teacher's. She grunted in response and turned further away from the teacher whilst waving a dismissal gesture.

 "Right... well... moving on!" he said, unfazed.

_I can't believe I miss that stupid idiot! I can't believe I miss his fake hair, his fake eyes, his presence, his being. Gr... I hate him for making me miss him!_

* * *

 Dib sat in the seat closest to the windows of the classroom with a bored visage. With one hand he kept his head aloft whilst resting the corresponding elbow onto the wooden surface. With large glasses, that glinted in the sunlight, Dib stared out the window closest to him with a bored, blank face. The sounds of his peers horsing around and generally goofing off had long since left his interest. Even the teacher couldn't bring his attention back to the front, but she still had a few tricks up her sleeve. Considering his reaction to the first new student, encountered in grade school, the newcomer could peak his interest. Perhaps even break him out of the crazed obsession with supernatural and paranormal related things he had.

 "Okay class, it's time to settle down." the elderly teacher said in a small, sweet voice.

 The class did not show any signs of settling down, sadly. It was quite a shame that  _moronic_ fools were disrespecting the person  _willingly_  teaching them things they'd need to know if they wanted to have a bright future ahead of them. Yet they still kept on yapping, throwing things at people when they thought the teacher couldn't catch it, had their backs to the wrinkly old woman, had their holophones out, etc. However, this woman was different from other teachers. This woman had a limit and if pushed past that limit a very unpleasant sight was seen. Unfortunately for the class, the limit was pushed back on this particular day.

 Without warning the elderly woman slammed a mighty fist into the wooden desk before her. Her body twitched and convulsed as the implants and modifications, given to her in her scientific experiment days, in her body began working their magic. The little old lady's body changed to that of a twenty-five year old body builder with the pulsating veins and bulging muscles included. She let out a guttural roar as her droopy eyes opened wide to reveal prominent red veins and bloodshot eyes. Her teeth were barred and saliva dripped occasionally as foam was on the verge from pouring out past her dentures. The instant such a grotesque, beefy monster came into view the students ceased their conversations. They sat crisscrossed with their hands intertwined and resting on the surface of their desks. All the electronics were put away and the crumpled balls of paper and such no longer flew like planes.

 "GRAAH! VERY GOOD! URAAAGH! NOW, PAY ATTENTION OR PERISH!" she bellowed with a testosterone filled voice.

 Her left arm, tree trunk sized, flung straight out to point a sausage-like finger to the door.

 "URGGGG! TODAY, WE HAVE NEW STUDENT! TRANSFER FROM PRIVATE SCHOOL OF SEATTLE! SAY, GRUUH, HELLO TO REVIAZ MIND!" the teacher proclaimed.

 The students' heads oscillated towards the door their teacher gestured to. At first, the students were confused to see a classroom door's bulkhead refrain from sliding shut, unlike every other classroom door. But they eventually realized why it wouldn't be shut when the door's handle turned before swinging open. The students watched with anticipation, even Dib, to see whom the new student was. What they saw was not what they expected.

 The figure that walked in was a towering pillar of meat that loomed over everyone, even the teacher, with his lofty height of seven foot two. His build was toned and athletic with more than his fair share of chiseled muscles. Said muscularity was that of an eighteen year old boy with his exact height, if not a bit beefier. However, his physical features were well-defined and pleasing to the eye despite being as tall and beefy as he was. The wall of meat had fair skin with a flawless perfection about it and twin lakes of creamy fudge as irises. His hair was short and spiky but was so messy that it tittered on the verge of a bedhead. There was no denying that the man was irresistibly beautiful and his clothing helped attest to said beauty. He wore a black, unzipped overcoat, which was half a size too big, over a light purple undershirt, a pair of royal blue jeans, black socks, and black converse with purple laces. The overcoat resembled much like a trench coat with the way it was one large thing of cloth connected via buttons at the front, and had a small turtle neck that leaned further out as it reached up to the middle of the boy's neck. The wrist cuffs had two buttons that were undone and split the cuffs down the middle. The jeans were skin tight and had a rather rough and wavy texture to it. The socks were pristine with the normal symmetrical folds and his shoes were designed by the best designer, it seemed.

 The new student, whom unintentionally wooed the women with his dashing good looks, ducked down to avoid the low hanging frame and took a mere three, long, strides to approach the teacher's desk. It was there that he oscillated his body to face the class with a happy visage. After his entrance, the door to the classroom automatically slammed shut and promptly had its bulkhead slid down to cover the entirety of the object. Then the teacher sputtered a series of enraged grunts and groans as she slammed her fists into the top of her desk several times. This drew the attention of the class and its new member to the teacher.

 "GRAH! NEW STUDENT--" she gripped the table and slammed her head on it a few times. "MAKE WORDS ABOUT SELF!"

 Reviaz nodded once before turning his attention to the class, again. His dazzling eyes scrolled from one end of the room to the other and scrutinized each face he saw. Only a moment was spent on each face. Except for Dib's, that is. When Reviaz got to Dib's face he took a few moments more to analyze than every other face. It was like the smirk of a rival was brightening the teen's eyes but vanished as quickly as Dib took notice. This made the paranormal activity-obsessed student raise an eyebrow in suspicious interest.

 No... I'm just being paranoid now. Zim's dead and Tak... well, I _think_ Tak's given up on conquering the Earth, I hope.

 "As you know from our  _beautiful_ teacher's introduction, my name is Reviaz Mind." he began with a silky, cool voice.

 "It's a weird name and... I was picked on for it back in my last school," he added bashfully. "But I hope to make friends that can look past my silly name! I hope that we all can become good friends and..."

 "URAAAGH! TEN MORE SECONDS OF TELLING!"

 "And I can't wait to join your class and have a pleasant time with the wonderful teacher." he finished respectfully.

 At the sound of his compliment the teacher changed back to her dainty form to make modest, bashful motions with her hands.

 "Oh you're just being sweet. Go take that seat in the middle there." she said bashfully, pointing to the empty seat in question.

 Without another word the new student approached and took a seat in the desk's chair in a matter of three long strides. Afterwards the class resumed without interruption, all the while Dib kept a close eye on the new kid. He whole heartily wanted to believe that the new kid was nothing more than an ordinary human being, but there was still the fact that Reviaz had given Dib such an odd look. It somewhat reminded the outcast of Zim; the alien had always referred to Dib as his rival when they were forced to work together. At first he had a "what if..." thought but quickly reasoned it away. The odds of him being Zim were so astronomically impossible, it made his overly large head hurt.

 I'm sure he's normal... I'm sure of it.

* * *

 The day went on normally, as if nothing happened. No one seemed to register Dib, although. It was like the arrival of the new kid ushered in a wave of change, for better or worse. At least no one messed with the big-headed adolescent boy anymore. Yet another thing that magnified the conflicting feelings Dib harbored for the new guy. With every fiber of his being, Dib desperately wanted to believe that Reviaz was a normal human. But, there was that look he gave him. The look of a person seeing their rival for the first time in a very, very long time. It was exactly the look Zim would shoot his way whenever he had to team up with Dib to fight something that he couldn't take on on his own. Said look was the only thing making Dib suspicious of the new guy, really. That, and the fact that he was so freakishly tall rubbed him the wrong way.

 So with keen eyes, magnified by the clarity of his glasses, Dib kept a few tabs on the adolescent boy/alien(?). Luckily they were in the same grade, so tailing him to his next class before quickly making it to his own was easier than it could have been. When he ate he watched very closely; if the new kid refused to eat the food then Dib would know. However, Reviaz ate the food willingly. It was odd seeing this, cause Zim had avoided the food like it carried the plague. Not to mention he was ten times more sociable than Zim could have ever been. Almost every guy he met immediately became best friends with him, and every girl just fell head-over-heels for him; whether they showed it or not was optional. He was the polar opposite of both Dib and Zim.

 Upon documenting all this, Dib came to a complacent conclusion. Raviaz was, without a doubt, one hundred percent human. The insane-labeled genus felt rather proud for this "achievement" and he expressed that pride well, for he crossed his arms over his chest, strode with a confident swagger, and gleefully closed his eyes whilst a smile was plastered to his face. This goofy visage remained with him even after the school bell rang and students began filing out of their classrooms and filled the halls. It remained even when he met up with his sister. It even lasted upon leaving the building. It did  _not_ last, however, when Gaz finally grew annoyed enough to question the gleefulness her brother possessed.

 "Why are you acting stupider than usual? You know I detest change..." she uttered with an irritable hiss in her voice.

 "Oh! This?" he asked happily, gesturing to his face. "I'm simply excited that the new kid in my homeroom isn't Z--"

 Dib's eyes went wide as he bit down on his tongue. While he didn't care, more or less, about Zim's absence Gaz did. In her own ways she proclaimed her resentment for any comment that was related to the deceased extraterrestrial. Although,  So, when he saw his sister's normally narrowed eyes wide in aggravated curiosity, Dib had to hold his tongue.

 "Isn't... isn't... an alien!" he exclaimed.

 A low groan breezed past the goth's lips as her eyes narrowed once more, "Is that why you've been stalking him...?" she questioned.

 "It's not  _stalking_ it's... keeping a close eye on someone." Dib said.

 "Uh-huh..."

 At this point, Gaz stopped listening to her brother. His voice was like nails dragging across a chalkboard, if not worse. Thankfully though, he had enough common sense to refrain from uttering  _his_ name. Gaz would neither admit nor show it, but she did gravely miss the irksome alien's presence. Though she knew naught of why she missed him. Never did he show feelings for her, so why did she bare such feelings for him? Why did she care that Zim was gone? Why did she care if Zim was dead? Why did she care if people mentioned his name? Why did she care, period? The swarming, attacking cloud of wasp-like thoughts did not let up their ferocious onslaught and it infuriated her to no end. Such internal conflict kept he distracted long enough for the emotions--which happened to be sealed inside of her blackened heart--to create several fissures to spiral around the lump of coal they called a home. These emotions were things Gaz had believed herself to have lost long, long ago. Yet here they were, causing hot and wet tears to prick the corners of her eyes. Dib had not taken notice and the goth wished to keep it that way. However, it became increasingly obvious that this time wasn't like the other times; Gaz couldn't bury her emotions this time. So to prolong an inevitability, the woman dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands until the surface broke underneath the combined efforts of the sharpness and pressure. The stinging pain and the warm trickling of blood, seeping through the cracks of her clenched fingers and dripping onto the sidewalk, were a welcoming distraction from the emotions that refused to relent the constant cracking of her frozen heart. But soon even that did little to distract her from the tears that now lined the bottom and corners of her eyes. She tried to hang her head like her neck was gripped by the embrace of a noose, but even that eventually stopped working. Soon she couldn't bring herself to take a single step further, so she merely brought her movement to a sudden halt.

 Dib went on and on with his overly dramatic speech. The boy had to enjoy listening to the sound of his voice if he talked so much, especially if it was enough to keep him from noticing his sister's sudden stop. In fact, if Dib hadn't of swung his arm a little too far to the left, in one of his grand, emphasizing gestures, he would never have realized she stopped moving. Upon feeling that his sister was no longer at his side Dib quickly spun around a full hundred and eighty degrees to find a rather frightening sight. His sister's entire body was rigid, her head was downcast and her version was glued to the sidewalk, and her hands were trembling and balled into enraged fists. Seeing this sudden change in her demeanor caused the adolescent boy to develop wobbly knees while a fear induced sweat trickled down his brow. Something he'd said caused Gaz's temper to go off, or it was merely one of those times when she just spontaneously shot her anger through the roof. I sincerely hope it's the latter, Dib fearfully prayed.

 "H-hey, Gaz, you alright?" he stammered, voice quavering.

 There was no response from the girl but that merely heightened Dib's dread.

 "G-Gaz... I said, are you--"

 "Leave. NOW!"

 Dib physically jumped back in terror. His visage was that of a frightened mouse, backed into a corner. There were rare occasions that Dib had the misfortune of seeing what his sister was like when the boiling point of her anger had been reached. It was never a pretty sight to see and it was no better to be on the receiving end of said boiling point. There had been times when the Gothic girl's fierce rage had been anchored to Dib and whatever it was that set it off, and those times just so happened to be the times he paid trips to the hospital's intensive care units. So when he heard the command to leave, he wasted little time to start fleeing. The boy ran, ran like no one has ever ran before. He ran and ran; ran and ran; ran and ran, until he couldn't run anymore, but then ran some more. The adolescence ran until his muscles ached and his tendons throbbed but kept on running. He never stopped running until he arrived at his home, but even then he ran into said home and found a hole to hide in. It was a fruitless attempt at escaping his sister's wraith, and Dib knew that for a cold, hard fact. If his sister's wraith had truly been shot through the roof by something he said and/or did then there was no escaping her. The best, and only, thing he could do was pray that his sister would calm down before getting home.

* * *

Gaz didn't look up to see if her brother had left; the sound of his rapid footsteps was enough for her. There was a high likelihood that Dib would assume her anger had exceeded the breaking point, meaning he wouldn't come back and see the state she was in, and that was exactly what Gaz wanted. She knew that the boy would run away at the sound of her command. Now that she was alone she could show weakness. It was something she hated to do, but it was also something that was quite unavoidable if they demanded to be expressed. So that's what she did, Gaz expressed emotion.

 The woman's fingers dug further into the palms of her hands, letting small runnels of crimson drip from the gaps in between each finger, and clear liquid began to bubble up and flood the lower half of her eyes. Her vision got more and more blurry as the levels of welling-up tears increased; consequently, it got to a point where it became far too difficult to see. She blinked away the tears and created two vast streams of warm, salty liquid. These rivers of salty tears streamed down the lines of her face like a vast basin, carving vast, glistening canyons and gulches into her white skin. Every ounce of strength, both physical and mental, seeped out of her like a wet sponge put into a drier. Gaz's knees buckled underneath an excruciatingly heavy weight of sudden and oppressive sorrow. Her knees and calves hit the ground with astounding force; the skin of her knees and down was beaten and turned a bright red. The once pale skin, now red and raw, clinging to her slender knees and calves were overwrought with scratches. The pain of physical abuse was nothing when compared to the irksome tightening inside her chest, the welling of sorrow and despair, the blooming of countless emotions that remained buried for many, many years. She curled in on herself as she let the tears roll down freely; Gaz finally welcomed the flooding emotions, and with open arms as well. Her hands uncurled and reached up to cover her face and muffle the soft sobs that rolled off her tongue.

 She was content with staying like this, for a while really. No one would come and check on her. However, something happened that took Gaz by surprise. When she had believed herself to be alone, someone else arrived on the scene. That person's presence, unbeknownst to Gaz, did not leave upon seeing the infamous girl's weeping, curled up girl.

 "It's sad to see a girl crying." the mysterious person said.

 The woman's body went rigid upon hearing the voice. Her weeping was silenced as her teeth clamped onto her tongue while her hands made quick work on drying her eyes. She straightened her back and pulled her hands off of her face, then turned her head in the direction the voice came from. Gaz looked deep inside of herself to find the strength, the sheer willpower to construct a facade of her normal, everyday self. But what she found was a meager amount of said willpower; the best she could make was a pitiful mask of false rage. This facade was more than enough for her at the current point in time, so she felt capable of looking at the owner of the voice without resuming her fit of emotional expression.

 "S-shut up!" she yelled with a quavering voice.

* * *

Reviaz could only find the resolve to stand and stare at the sobbing, Gothic girl. Her body contracted and puffed out in rhythmic motions that matched the pattern of a crier's wheezing perfectly. It was sad to see a woman cry but what did he care? It wasn't any of his business, it didn't matter to him, and yet he couldn't tear himself from where he stood. But he found a sense, upon a continuous scrutiny of the woman, of familiarity begin to rise from the depths of his memory. What was her name again, he thought, Jazz? Kaz? Razz?

 "It's sad to see a girl crying." he stated suddenly.

 The man thought for a second, why did he say such a thing? He hardly knew the person and here he was trying to console her. However, that same sense of familiarity was starting to pester him with a nagging feeling. This feeling told him countless times that he knew her, that he had seen her somewhere before. But where he had seen her before was a complete mystery to the boy. However, that did not remain as a fact for very long. In the time he took to ponder the sense of familiarity and his possible reason for speaking to the woman, she had seemed to compose herself and was now turned, partially, to shoot a dark, angry glare his direction. This made him raise a questioning eyebrow as the girl's demeanor was laid out before his very eyes. Her eyes were tinted red and had a partial puff about them, her cheeks were flushed, and the sides and lines of her face were stained with a glistening residue streaks from the tears she had been shedding, not long ago.

 "S-Shut up!" she yelled with a quavering voice.

 The tone of anger and darkness were the final pieces of the puzzle, the puzzle that was his memory of the woman. Reviaz finally remembered the identity of the Gothic girl, and the persistent, nagging feeling in the back of his mind finally subsided. Her name was Gaz, Gaz Membrane. She was the daughter to the great human scientist Professor Membrane. That very fact made the beginnings of a plan start to form in his head; the levels of deviousness and villainy this plan possessed frightened even him. If he wanted this plan to get under way, the human boy had to earn the woman's trust and swoon her like every other girl he met in the school.

 "Leave, leave and f-forget everything y-y-you s--"

 "But if I leave, then who'll be around to console you?" he questioned, a coy smirk tugging at his lips.

 Gaz recoiled from his comment, whether from disgust or fear was unclear. When she recoiled her body turned away from Reviaz and her vision went downcast, once again, as her head hung limply. What is so interesting, he thought, about the sidewalk? It was clear that superfluous comments like the ones he used on girls at the high school wouldn't work, on Gaz at least. He was gonna have to dig into her very psyche, weaken her even more than she already was. That was the only way the adolescent boy was going to lay the foundation of a relationship between her and himself.

 "It hurts, doesn't it? It hurts to be the only one that cares that  _he_ is no longer here. It hurts that no one else cares about the fact that  _he_ died. It hurts to be  _alone_ again, doesn't it?" he said in a nurturing manner.

 The woman gave no response; however, her body language spoke to him. Yes, she was hurting and she missed the  _he_ Reviaz was referring to. She was indeed lonely but she would never openly avow to it. Things, as of yet, were going well.

 "You miss  _him_ and that is understandable. However, you need to move on, yes? I'm sure that's what  _he_ would have wanted." he continued.

 "How d-d-do you know what h-he would have wanted?! Y-you never met him!" Gaz blurted out, anger and sorrow seething from her voice.

 In her fit of renewed anger, the goth found the energy to stand on shaky legs. Her entire demeanor changed to that of an offended, enraged death cleverly disguised as a Gothic girl. Her hands were curled in shaking, mighty fists. Her entire body was shaking with sorrow and rage; her body and hair spun around with the very same sorrow and rage that seethed out of her body. The glare she wore was a glowering stare of hate and sadness while fresh rivers of tears streamed down the line the lines of her cheeks. It would be no easy feat, but with Reviaz's talents it would get done. Then, when he wrapped this encounter up, he would go home and tell his family all about it. Of course, he'd leave out the parts relating to his newly formed plans. He'd save that for later, when they were ready to hear it. Things are going quite well, he thought wickedly. [4]

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1). I'm going to assume that this is a partially accurate description of what his voice might sound like if/when older.
> 
> 2). Kudos to thee that gets the reference.
> 
> 3). Huh... I wrote this guy's name without realizing... welp, cameo appearance!
> 
> 4). The chapter is stretching on and, as a result, is slowly dropping the levels of quality it started out with. I'm going to have to wrap it up here and now. I apologize if, even now, the ending feels rushed.

**Author's Note:**

> 1). I suppose he'd kind of look like the link's picture... with the few adjustments and editing I've done to make it a bit more realistic. http://www.deviantart.com/art/invader-zim-older-version-312838952 just if I have done a horrid job at trying to describe it.
> 
> 2). I am aware of the clear pinkish blood they have.
> 
> 3). This idea is completely credited to the Fanfiction.net user Dooragon, a complete genius on explaining things! I hope to mold it into something of my own, but for now the base is molded to mirror his, for now.
> 
> 4). Is that how you spell his ship? Correct me if I'm wrong please and thank you.


End file.
